AS PROMISED, ELI SENDS ME a list of attractions to research, and it does help. It fills my head with the possibilities of the future, instead of the heartbreaks of the past. I’m getting really excited about this trip… this little adventure. I’m really not sure if something is going to happen between Eli and I, not sure if I’m ready, not sure if he wants to get tangled up in my drama. A man like him could probably get some whenever he feels like it. Why would he want me and all my baggage? But then again, maybe that’s exactly what the attraction is. He can have a fling, and after a week, I fly back to America – no strings, no commitment worries.

I’ve made a list of things I want to see and do: Nyhavn of course, the touristy spot with all the colorful buildings and boats, and cycling in Amager Beach Park (it’s the thing to do). I also want to sit at a bistro and people watch, visit Eli’s studio, and see the Little Mermaid statue and the Queen’s winter castle. I also want to climb up one of those old towers and see the city from high above. And on the top of my list: Tivoli Gardens.

The days have not been moving fast enough. I go through the motions, but I’m only halfway there. I seriously need to get this trip over with, so I can be present for my family again. The anticipation is slowly robbing me of my sanity.

John has been a model husband; helping with the kids and around the house, picking up groceries, driving the kids to their activities. I can see he’s really trying, and I do want this to work out, and I’m convinced that it will. I can already see us in the future; happy, just like we were years ago. They say that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Perhaps the bumps in our marriage will only make us stronger.

I’m heading to lunch with the girls, just about to climb into my car when my phone pings. There’s a new message from Eli. Every time I hear from him, my whole body buzzes with excitement — it never fails. I laugh out loud when I see the photo he’s sent me. It’s a banana with sunglasses digitally inserted on a bicycle, cruising happily through the streets of Copenhagen. The banana has stick arms and legs, long hair, and is even wearing a purple hat and red heels, drawn in with a Sharpie.

I drive to the restaurant with a stupid grin on my face the whole way. I finally get to read his reply when I get there. I’m still buzzing.

It’s what I love about Eli. He doesn’t play games. He’s not afraid to show his emotions, to be vulnerable. I think that’s why I like him so much. Well, that and those eyes of his. That smile, and… all of it.

I eagerly walk into our spot, full of excitement. I’m wearing heels and a pretty blue wraparound dress — I always dress up to meet the girls because it’s the only time I get to, save for the occasional dinner or trip with John and the kids. Our spot is a little cozy restaurant which serves only breakfast and lunch. They make an amazing white egg spinach omelet, and the best fudge and butter tarts ever known to man.

We are so predictable. I always have the chicken burger with brie and apricot jam. Corrie always gets the quiche, Kayla gets the omelet, and Maeve usually gets crêpes topped with fruit and whipped cream.

“Hey girls,” I cheer. I’m the last one there, which is unusual. But I guess that’s what happens when you’re busy texting your sexy foreign crush.

“Look at you,” Corrie says. “You look amazing. You’re glowing.”

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” Kayla jokes.

“Um… no,” I wince. “My life is complicated enough, thank you very much.”

“Are you excited?” Maeve asks.

“Yes,” I say, the word small. I feel vulnerable, like they can all read my mind, and can see how crazy I’ve become. I’m generally the sensible one. Maeve is the playful, child-like one, Kayla is the free-spirit, Corrie is the wild, fiery one, and I’m the wise one who always makes the right decisions.

What in the hell has happened to me?

We talk about me, of course. Everyone seems to have forgotten all about Maeve’s upcoming nuptials. It’s all about me now. They’re all living vicariously through me. When I show them the photo of the banana, they all crack up.

“So this guy is not only hot, he’s funny too,” Corrie says. “Lethal combination, sweetie.”

“She’ll never want to come back,” Kayla adds.

“I’ll miss the kids,” I point out. I don’t mention John. “One week should be plenty.”

A wide grin stretches across Corrie’s face. She sets down her fork, next to her half-eaten quiche, and digs into her oversized purse. “I know this isn’t an official meeting,” she says. “But I’ve cooked up a little something for Gabs, a poem.”

Kayla laughs. “I didn’t realize you were a poet, Corrie.”

She smirks. “I’m not.” She really isn’t. Corrie’s journal entries could best be described as rants. She’s always going on about something.

She clears her throat, and starts.

I have a friend,

Who is heading off to Copenhagen.

Flying off and facing danger,

To meet a handsome stranger.

Seriously?! We all giggle like school girls.

She’ll walk the cobblestone streets.

Do a little shopping.

And have lots of fun,

Between the sheets.

Kayla cracks up, and Maeve smirks. I’m riveted.

She’ll wear a cozy coat.

And ride on the boats.

She’ll cuddle close and tight,

And kiss him under the moonlight.

I’m so jealous.

Seriously, I’m green with envy.

I’ll be here.

And she’ll be there,

Getting some booty.

Corrie finishes with a bow.

“Wow, I think that was the worst poem I’ve ever heard,” Kayla struggles to say between laughs. “You’re too funny, Corrie.”

“Booty?... really?!” I chime in.

Corrie shrugs. “It’s the only word I could think of that rhymes with ‘envy’.

I smirk and shake my head. “I’m gonna miss you guys.”

Maeve smiles. “It’s only for a week.”

Yes, one week.

That’s all I get.